


Lord, hast thou forsaken me?

by bothways



Series: Dutiful Sons [3]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 14:17:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothways/pseuds/bothways
Summary: Connor struggles with following Il Duce's methods of dealing with the paedophile that the elderly priest tipped them off about.





	Lord, hast thou forsaken me?

If the meeting with the boy and the priest hadn't been so damn harrowing Connor would have relished the time alone in the dingy motel room. No Murphy, no Il Duce. But as it was he could think of nothing else other than the boy's flinches, his haunted eyes, the typical withdrawal of a survivor of abuse. He knew his sleep tonight would be disturbed by images of the few details that the child let slip. You would have thought he would have been used to meeting such damaged people by now. Since working with Il Duce their targets were just as often kidnappers, rapists, wife-beaters and paedophiles as the mafioso and drug-dealers they had originally targeted and Il Duce always insisted that the meet the victims first if it were possible. He said it helped them understand what they were really doing and why. The problem was it also fuelled Connor's temper with the target and he found it really difficult at times to restrain his fury. He knew Murphy felt similar. Only the soft lilt of Il Duce's voice with its "Connor, son, we're working" would bring him out of the red mist and back to the job at hand.

They came into the room quietly, so wrapped up was he in his brooding that he almost didn't notice them. Murph came and sat down beside him pressing their sides together and nudging his shoulder without speaking. As always he found the reassurance of his twin's physical presence grounding. He glanced over and noticed that Il Duce was hovering by the door, perhaps uncertain of his welcome. He had been mad at Il Duce right up until Father Donaldson had shown him where he was hiding the boy, at the back of the rectory. He had been shaken by the priest's kindness, his gentleness with the child and his sheer stupidity and lack of forethought. Of course the cops were going to find him as soon as they started looking and if the child's father was murdered they were going to start looking a whole lot harder than they were now. 

He'd only known his father for 8 months but he knew it was typical for him to get straight to the point, he didn't hold back if something needed saying so it was about to get hashed out and he still didn't know where he stood.

"How was the boy?" 

Connor thought for a minute, how does one answer that question. He remembered all the times someone stronger than him had held him down or hurt him against his will or worse, hurt Murphy when he had been powerless to stop it. It had happened countless times when they were two fatherless, mouthy kids in a bad neighbourhood in Ireland and had happened most recently with the Russians and Yakavetta. Each time had left a scar and twisted a little bit inside of him, made him a little bit slower to laugh, a little bit quicker to anger. He settled for:

"Damaged."

"He say who did it?" Murphy leaned a little further into him.

"Aye, it was his Da alright. Priest said there was some photos but they are not admissable in court or some shit. Prosecutor won't take a case on the boy's word alone and mother doesn't want him to testify."

"Did you get a photo of the perp son?"

"Aye." He handed over the rolled up paper in his pocket to his father.

"Maguire's going to hit him tonight. I'm going with them, make sure its done right."

"I'm coming with you." Il Duce stiffened at that as Connor knew he would. Il Duce tried to hide it but he didn't like being told how something was going to go down workwise. You could suggest but you couldn't stipulate. After the day he had had, Connor didn't really give a shit about how Il Duce liked to play it. Everytime he thought about that boy all he could see was Murphy's bruised face as a kid after Mr Shaughnessy at church had decided to teach him a lesson and the way his brother's right arm still wouldn't straighten completely at the elbow after it had been broken by the Macarthy brothers when he was 14. Oh, he'd had his share of beatings too, just the ones Murphy had received had always hurt him so much more. This time he was going to make sure the bastard didn't get away with it and Il Duce could go fuck himself if he thought he could change his mind. 

Il Duce just left it there, didn't say yes or no, didn't even look at him just went over to the kitchenette and started to fry some potatoes and sausages for dinner. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was unheard of for Connor not to eat, that was Murphy's thing, getting nerves and not eating. Connor always ate everything that was put in front of him no matter what was happening. Tonight he pushed the tatties and cabbage around his plate and ignored the sausages. Il Duce also didn't seem to be hungry. He hadn't said anything since their conversation earlier other than a short grace over the food before they began. Murph on the other hand polished off his food with gusto. 

"Murphy, have you had enough lad?" Murphy looked up, clearly slightly surprised that the first attempt at conversation over dinner was directed at him. However, although he was addressing Murphy, Il Duce was staring directly at Connor.  
"Aye Da, thanks."  
"Go out and get 2 coats, any colour but black." Il Duce held out 50 bucks to Murphy.  
"What the, . . . why do you need coats?"  
"We'd do well not to be recognised as the Saints this evening son. Just do it would you please." When Murphy didn't move immediately but instead looked between his brother and his father and their staring contest Il Duce face flushed slightly with annoyance. Connor exchanged a brief glance with his brother and could read the uncertainty and concern there. 

Murphy had changed completely with regard to Il Duce over the months since their most recent vision. It had started with shared conversations over early morning cigarettes and breakfasts before Connor awoke properly, discussions about guns and the meticulous cleaning of said guns that they were both so fond of. They both seemed to share a need to move constantly, to have their hands constantly occupied. When they were kids if Murph started up his fidgeting after being cooped up too long, Ma would swipe him one or usually more than one; however, Il Duce seemed to know just how to distract him, giving him little jobs to do, teaching him how to cook, demonstrating fighting techniques and exercises to increase strength. Then came the praise. It wasn't undeserved, Murph was sweet, kind and downright good when you got beneath his tough exterior. He did help old ladies across the road and he happily went without if other people could use what he had. On the one hand it was great that Il Duce recognised Murph's qualities, on the other hand Connor wasn't sure he liked the way Murph was becoming so dependent upon their father's good opinion. Il Duce praised Connor too but it mostly fell on deaf ears. Murph had always wanted his father to come back as a kid whereas, all things considered, Connor had been quite happy not to have another male in the family.

Il Duce had run out of patience and his voice reflected his clear annoyance at not being obeyed immediately. "Right now son."

Connor nodded at his brother who grabbed the money and fled the tension in the small room, a terse "yessir" his only reply.

Il Duce waited only for the thin door to click shut behind Murphy "I need an honest answer Son and I'm going to trust you as a man of your word. Are you planning to kill the mark this evening against my instructions and is that why you want to come? I can't stop you but I need to know."

Connor pulled out his rosary and placed his hand over it. "I swear by Almighty God that I am not planning to kill him. I just want to look him in the eyes and make sure he is not going to go near that boy again. I know why you don't want to target him right now, you're worried about the mother and the priest and their connection to his death." Il Duce nodded once. "I told you, in fact I swore to you and to God that we'd follow your instructions, follow you in carrying this stuff out. Its worked well so far. I ain't planning to go back on that the first time I don't like one of yer plans."

"Thank you son, that's good to know." Il Duce paused seemingly caught up in his own head for a few minutes. Connor had learned that this didn't usually mean that the conversation was finished just that Il Duce was figuring out what else and how much to say. 

"You know this is going to be ugly tonight. Stomach-turning ugly that you'll never forget. That's why I asked Maguire." For a second Connor was incredulous, together they had killed over 100 men in the past eight months and he wasn't exactly some innocent. Il Duce held up his hand before Connor could protest.

"I know that you are going to say that you've had a fair bit of experience with the job and I'm not denying that or that you are very efficient at it. Its just that you and your brother are still so innocent in many ways and I'd like to keep it like that. You laugh and joke together, yer capable of loving people and life easily. Whats going to go down tonight is different to what we do." Il Duce sucked in a large breath sounding almost a bit desperate. 

"I know you are your own man, you make you own decisions and you're unlikely to back away from anything but I don't want this for you, I don't want what I need to do tonight to this piece of filth to come between us. If Maguire's involved its going to be a Hoag style torture. In Hoag, death is cheap and for many there its welcome. The currency of fear is torture and rape and when so many evil men are placed together in one place the different forms that torture can take are chilling, make you sick to your stomach. "

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was dark in the motel room when he walked back in. He could hear Murphy's even breathing coming from the bed they shared. He suddenly had a longing to be close to his brother, to feel his warm skin beneath his hand and just breathe in time with him again. He removed the mulberry-coloured jacket Murph had given him earlier (a colour Murph had obviously searched long and hard for just to piss him off) and his jeans and climbed in next to his brother. Murph stirred.

"D'ye get him Conn? Scare him off some." Murphy slurred slightly as he came out of his slumber.  
"Aye Murph, he was fucking scared." Murphy came awake suddenly at his lacklustre tone.  
"Whats wrong Conn?" He turned the light on and looked around towards the other bed in the room. "Where's Da?"  
He rubbed his brother's back soothingly. "Its ok Murph, he's just gone for a walk, be back in the morning."  
"What, why the fuck would he do that. He don't ever do that."  
"Well he wanted to tonight."  
"Did you two fight?"  
"No Murph. Its all fine, no ones hurt, well apart from the perp."  
"He ain't dead is he?"  
"No just roughed up some."  
"Whats the problem then?"  
"Nuthin, just shut-up and go to sleep." Murphy gave him a hard look but turned around and laid down. He turned the light off and lay there in the dark. 

He wasn't sure how long had passed but the first licks of light were coming through the dirty blinds. He was pretty sure that Murph hadn't gone to sleep either.  
"They raped him Murph. All of them." Murphy turned to look at him.  
"What happened?"   
"They surrounded him, told him they knew about the boy, told him not to go near him, no police etc and then hit him just a bit. Said some shit and he seemed scared, pissed himself. I thought that would be the end of it but, but Maguire climbed on top of him and they pulled his trousers down and raped him."  
"Did . . . did Da do it too?"   
"No. But he didn't stop it. He could've. They're scared of him, Maguire and his men. Do anything he says. Its all yessir and no sir the whole time."  
"Yeah, I noticed that today. He said to me Da was the most feared man in Hoag."  
"I can believe it. He talked to the perp the whole time it was happening. Said, said some really sick shit."

It came to Connor in sickening clarity then, the noise of skin smacking against skin, the painful grunts of the older man and the noises of Maguire and his cronies when they orgasmed. Over all of that was his father's calm voice talking the perp through what was happening to him. "hurts don't it? Hurts a lot more if you're eight years old when it happens. Tell me Mr O'Hanlon when you fucked your little boy all those times did you tear up all those tender little places inside his asshole. His 8-year old asshole. Maguire here is going to demonstrate to you what that might feel like. Did you make your boy bleed Mr O'Hanlon? Because these boys are going to make sure you bleed good and proper but don't worry about that none, the blood'll act as lube, ease their passage a little." His father had gone on and on like that for ages, just taunting the perp with his voice whilst Connor adverted his eyes but found it impossible to ignore the grunts and the sounds of flesh on flesh and the smell, the godawful smell of semen, blood, lust and violence. 

He must have shuddered slightly in bed or something as before he knew it his brother was there holding onto him, stroking his sides, pressing his mouth against his hair in the way they always comforted each other.

"Where was God in all this Murph, I just want to know where does God stand 'cos he felt pretty damn far away yesterday? Does God even touch a place like Hoag with all its rapists, murderers and child molesters? Does he forsake people like that Murph, 'cos he should. Will he forsake me Murph if I join them?"  
"He was there Conn, you know he was. There is nowhere God doesn't go and God would never forsake you Connor. I know that and you know that."  
"What does he want from me Murph? Because that that went on last night I can't do that. Not even to a fucking Paedo, I just can't. Kill 'em, dispatch their souls, no problem but torture, rape, what the fuck. Are we going to get like Il Duce Murph? Are we going to be that cold, that evil?"  
"He ain't cold Conn and he certainly ain't evil. He just don't know how to live anymore. 25 years in that hellhole. That could have happened to him, he were young when he went in there. Certainly must have seen it happen to others. He pretty much told me earlier today that Maguire had been raped in Hoag, that lots of young men were and he just had to ignore it but he helped Maguire cos he's our age and he reminded him of us I think. That shit must be normal when you live with it happening around you every day. Don't turn Da into the baddie here Conn. The evil fuck is the one that raped that kid and that weren't Da."  
"I know that Murph, its just. . . He told me not to go that evening, said it would change stuff between us, that there was stuff I didn't need to see but I just didn't listen, thought I'd seen it all." Connor rubbed his hands through his hair. " I fucking puked on the way home."  
"What did he say?"  
"Just kept his distance and said to go home to you and he'd be back in the morning. Murph, I need to pray. "  
"Do you want to speak to Uncle Sibeal?"  
"I can't tell him about this Murph for fucks sake."  
"No you eejit, talk to him, tell him how far away what we're doing makes you feel from God. He's just got a way of explaining things, making you feel closer to God again that other priests don't have. He might show us a way to get round this. To reconcile what happened with what God wants us to do, 'cos Conn you can't lose sight of the fact that God wants us to follow Il Duce. "  
"Aye we could call him, you never know he might be able to wangle a visit soon."  
"That's a bit of a longshot Conn but we can try. Lets just pray the rosary this morning. What day are we now, guess it must be Friday so Sorrowful Mysteries." Murphy stood up and shrugged on his old and bloodstained bathrobe, the same one he'd been in when the Russians had come calling. No-one could say the MacManus family wasn't thrifty, everything got used and reused and everyone made do. Always had done and always would do. He made a playful swipe at Connor. "Get up you lazy fuck."   
"I'm getting up, its cold you arsehole." Connor felt the scratchy surface of the dirty motel carpet against his bare knees and the familiar ritual of the prayers, the position and his brother's warm body pressed hard against his side slowly grounded him and took him away from the horrors of the previous night.


End file.
